fathers and husbands, in a house that is white
In Which Your Humble Blogger disagrees, despite a vague feeling that he will vote for the other one in a week and a bit.
In Which Your Humble Blogger disagrees, despite a vague feeling that he will vote for the other one in a week and a bit.
In Which Your Humble Blogger piles on, unfairly, but you know what? Life isn’t fair, I tell you what.
In Which YHB once again auditions for Speechwriter General, or more accurately for Monday-morning Speechwriter General. Do they still call it Monday morning? It seems like they play football five or six days a week, these days.
In Which Your Humble Blogger just writes a note to write a note, really. Got to get the stats looking good for the end of the year. In case they audit.
In Which Your Humble Blogger viciously attacks an article he hasn’t even seen. Hah! Take that! and that!
In Which Senator Clinton is visited by James Madison’s ghost, who wears a garland of good ideas he had in life.
In Which Your Humble Blogger lives, just briefly, in a fantasy world of his own devising
In Which Your Humble Blogger learns a thing or two, possibly incorrectly
In Which I whale on Ted Rall for something stupid. Wail? Wale? Anyway.
In Which Your Humble Blogger rails against elitism, so, you know, take it for what it’s worth.